


they know they were born for it

by mercurybard



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurybard/pseuds/mercurybard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Losing a brother she never knew she had.  Coda to "Jump the Shark"</p>
            </blockquote>





	they know they were born for it

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Supernatural sure ain't mine...there'd be more awesome females on the show if it were. Set in an AU where Jo is John's daughter and she and Dean keep in touch.

Jo’s phone has a bad habit of ringing at ass o’ clock. Enough so that Tamara has threatened to drop it in the toilet. Not that she ever would since a hunter without a cell phone is asking to be run off the road or locked in a broom closet with a pissed off poltergeist.

So, it rings, and Dean says without preamble, “We had a brother.”

Jo rolls over onto her back, sheets rasping over the stubble on her legs. Almost two weeks hunting through Yellowstone for werewolves, camping most days in a tiny pup tent if they slept at all. Her bones ache. “’Had’?”

“Ghouls,” Dean says, and maybe his voice cracks.

The next breath she takes catches a little, and she drags a hand across her face. Of course there are more Winchesters, even if they go by different names. And nothing as mundane as a car crash can separate a Winchester from his mortal coil.

And death is no guarantee. Jo fingers the ridge of scar tissue that slashes across her thigh down clear to her kneecap and remembers the sweet smile of the Reaper who Tamara chased away. “You burned him?”

“Yeah. Take care of yourself, Jo.” And then there’s the click of the call ending, and she’s back to staring at the ceiling of the motel room, a new curl of grief probing at her innards.


End file.
